100 Oneshot Challenge
by ffflight
Summary: For Prin Pardus's 100 Oneshot Challenge.
1. Injured

**Injured**

In. And out. The steady rhythm of my lungs, taking in air and then pushing it back out again.

In. And out. There is something warm and sticky on my paws. It's just honey, Lightfoot. That's all.

In. And out. _Where are you? This isn't the medicine den. _Of course this is the medicine den. I have a cough. The medicine cat has honey. Honey is good for coughs.

In. And out. _No you don't. You're all scratched up because- _No, Lightfoot. You have a cough. That's why your paws are sticky, because you were trying to put honey in your mouth.

In. And out. _Wake up, Lightfoot. _What do you mean? I _am _awake.

_No you're not. Now get up and open your eyes. _

And before I can stop myself, I do.

And I collapse again.

It hits me like a monster. The blood. The death. The total annihilation of my Clan. At the paws of…of…

"NIGHTPELT!"

My cry echoes through the silent camp, a cry raw with pain and betrayal and longing. And then I am crying, deep sobs like I have never cried before, tears streaming down my cheeks, snot running from my nose. There is a powerful ache, a hole in my chest, pulling me, tearing me, ripping me violently in two. I bend over, curled up in a ball to stop the hole from consuming my mind and everything that makes me me. I am a moaning, grief-stricken mess, surrounded by blood and death. All I can think about is my father and my mother and how they died to save me and I was always so mean to them and Owlfeather who I left behind in my fervor and and Nightpelt who I trustedand instead he shattered my world while looking on I thought I thought he was real I trusted I cared I _trusted…_

All dead all gone gone gone.

"Mama!" I wail, for suddenly I feel lost and alone, bare and shivering and a little kit again. "MAMA!"

Except there's no one here.

So once I finish crying, I sleep. Sleep like the dead.

I wish I was.

When I awaken, I am some semblance of living. I get up and shamble around, automatically checking the faces of the bodies scattered around camp.

Jaystar, my father…Eveningmist, my mother…kind Ivyflight, the mute…Dawnwing's litter…

But I do not see Owlfeather or Ashkit or Nightpelt.

No. Not Nightpelt. Just Twilight.

Only then do I become aware of my injuries. I look at my pale tabby pelt. Long, deep scratches run the length of my right flank. I am covered in little cuts and blood drips slowly down my face from a cut in my cheek. I ache all over. My neck is stiff, my paws so sore I can barely walk.

Some of FleetClan survived. Perhaps we should change our name to LostClan.

The scent of rogues hangs heavy in the air, a thick, unbearable musk that reminds me of Nightpe- Twilight.

So I run.

I trip and stumble through what was once my forest, now alien and menacing. All I scent is blood, blood, blood, and before I know it I am lying curled at the base of a tree, heart pounding, eyes wild, muttering nonsense to myself.

I stare into a crop of ferns and the ferns stare back.

No, no. That can't be right. Ferns can't stare. Ferns don't even have eyes, for Starclan's sake, but I see eyes, right there, a brilliant blue just like

He steps out and my heart stops.

Or, more accurately, he drags himself into visibility.

Twilight is even worse off than I am. He is a bloody pulp, clawed and beaten and left for dead.

I am frozen. A part of me sees a demon from the very depths of the Place of No Stars. Another sees the cat I once loved in pain.

"Lightfoot," he croaks. "Lightfoot. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He's crying, tears pouring down his cheeks, one paw reaching for me. "Lightfoot," he says again, as if somehow my name is a healing tonic for him.

I can't look in his eyes, those bottomless blue eyes that captured my heart. So instead I watch a dark drop of blood slither down his reddish fur and disappear in the earth. "Why?" I whisper to it.

"I had to," he says. "They would have killed…killed my family…killed me…killed you."

He slides forward, on his belly, and the movement so reminds me of that of a snake that adrenaline and revulsion shoots through my veins. What fur I have that's not caked in blood rises. "Stay away from me, adder," I hiss, my eyes wide. My mind is racing and my claws unsheathe. I could kill him here and now, put an end to him, the destroyer of my Clan. Then when he's dead I could talk to him at the Place of No Stars and ask, _How do you like being dead, Twilight? _And he'll say, _Not much, really. I wish you didn't kill me because it's not very nice down here. Too much darkness. _And then I'll be, _But why are you afraid, Nightpelt? You are darkness! _I'll laugh and say, _darkness and blood, darkness and blood, Nightpelt's made of darkness and blood!_

I become aware of laughter ringing in the air. A harsh, maniacal cackle, gleefully chanting "darkness and blood, darkness and blood, Nightpelt's made of darkness and blood!"

It's scaring me. I wish it would stop.

And then suddenly I clamp my jaws shut as I realize it's coming from _me_.

"Look what you've done," I whisper, my last moment of sanity, and then I run away again, leaving him with his guilt, descending deeper into madness. 


	2. Sinking

**Sinking**

The world is dark. Silent. Cold.

Water enfolds me, caresses me, pulls me gently to and fro. There is something magical down here, a certain beauty in this dark mystery. I am a kit again in my mother's womb, innocent and unknowing.

My lungs burn.

Of course.

The need to breathe is a painful reminder that I have not quite left everything behind just yet. A slight frown creases my face. My life on the surface seems so very far away now.

_The unrealistic expectations the Clan had for me, only kit of the greatest leader RiverClan had ever known, Reedstar. I was expected to know everything, be able to do anything, be smart and funny and charming all in one. I was supposed to be my parents brought back from the dead. _

_But that's not what they got. Instead they were faced with me, Mistwing, a shy, untalented wisp of a she-cat who was clumsy on her paws and couldn't emote to save her life. I was a hopeless swimmer, a noisy hunter, the kind of fighter who ended up hitting her own side instead of the enemy. I had no desire for power, instead staying out of the way as much as possible. _

_I_

_tried. _

_I tried to be charismatic and engaging like my mother Lilystream, but all my attempts fell flat and often made everyone uncomfortable. I tried to be strong and smart like my father, but I simply couldn't wrap my head around the strategies of battle and ordering others around felt like someone was clawing me over and over. I tried so hard, strained and berated myself until the fibers of my being started snapping from the weight._

_I could feel their expectations and disappointments weighing me down, submerging me. I had tried for so long, failed for so long, been crushed over and over that I had forgotten what it felt like to really be happy. Until I met Smokefeather. _

_Ours was a slow, tentative love, unfurling inside our hearts like a young newleaf flower. We flirted in that strange way that shy cats do, brushing pelts, eyes meeting and flicking away again, watching the other from across the clearing, a shy, murmured conversation or two. He wasn't a jovial cat, always smiling. He wasn't especially good-looking, or brave, or smart. He was simply Smokefeather, and I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He made my heart quicken and my eyes brighten. I was impervious to whispers and disappointed looks. Simply by being there for me, simply by caring, he made the fog lift from my mind and for a few moments, I was a different cat._

_But then one day, he was gone. _

_It felt like a part of me had gone with him. _

_And suddenly, I was raw, naked, exposed. My walls were torn away and I was reduced to the quivering, pathetic cat that I was. Every look was a blow. Every word a scratch._

_I thought he left because of me, because I, too, was a disappointment. He came to the Clan one day, and then was gone the next. He ground my heart underfoot and left me to pick up the pieces. _

_And then, as if I didn't have enough to deal with already, as if I could handle this on top of everything else, I started having dreams. _

_Dreams where StarClan whispered in my ear, telling me of a great danger to come, hinting that I was RiverClan's only hope. Nightmares that had me crying softly in my sleep. Vague, tantalizing glimpses of my parents through a thick, white fog. _

_More, more more. I was buckling under this new pressure. Leafbare came, the worst one we'd ever had. The river froze over solid. There was no prey. Cats glanced at me out of the corners of their eyes, as if still clinging to the hope that perhaps my parents' qualities would rise in me as temperatures dropped. _

_No such luck. _

_Expectations. Whispers. Taunts. _

_I stared at the hole in the ice, filled with dark, still water. Death by the water RiverClan so loved seemed wonderfully ironic._

Underneath the ice, it is beautiful. A soft, glowing white, the sun shining through in dim beams where the water's solid skin is thinnest. There are no eyes watching, no mouths moving, just silence, beautiful, blessed silence and solitude. I have longed for this, craved it, not knowing where to find it until I threw myself into dark waters and found paradise.

A smile spreads across my face.

And then my stillness, my sanctuary, is shattered.

I see the silhouette of a cat; hidden in a mass of frothy bubbles, small with distance. A part of my brain wonders how I could have drifted so far, so fast, but the vast majority is angry and indignant that even this, my last sanctuary, would be invaded.

I don't want to be saved. I try to swim away, lose my pursuer in the dark depths, but I find I cannot move my limbs. Instead I am condemned to drift as the cat swims closer…closer…closer…

It's Smokefeather.

My eyes widen, my mind wiped clean. I don't know what to think or feel. My heart, traitor that it is, starts beating faster in response to his presence. Blood throbs through my veins, blotting out every other sound.

Orange eyes meet blue ones.

_Stay, _Smokefeather mouths.

I stare blankly.

_I never should have left, _Smokefeather continues, bitterness and regret showing in his thin face. _I love you, Mistwing. _He swims forward, touches my nose with his while closing his eyes.

I love you

He knows I don't want to be saved

Except that I do

Words bubble in my throat. I want to tell him that I feel the same, but suddenly my thundering heart and burning lungs is absolutely unbearable and I must breathe, I must I must I must

breathe

Cold, airless water fills my lungs. My eyes widen and I try to form words with my mouth, but there is nothing, I can't move, I am panic, panic, panic. I want to tell Smokefeather how much I love him. This is paramount. I can't die yet, I can't.

But at the same time, I am tired.

So very, very, tired.

The world is very soft and warm all of a sudden. My anxiety is curbed by a curious contentment, as my surroundings slowly darken around me.

I try to make my mouth form words, a small, nagging vestige of anxiety saying _unfinished business, Mistwing _over and over again, but I feel disconnected from my body.

I need to tell Smokefeather I love him.

I need to tell Smokefeather I love

I need to tell Smokefeather I

I need to tell Smokefeather

I need to tell

I need to

I need

Blue eyes meet orange, but too late- I am not under the ice with him any more. Instead, all I know is darkness.

Lonely, silent, beautiful darkness.


End file.
